Drunken Phone Call
by MapleTreeway
Summary: Germany drunkenly calls America in the middle of the night to confess something.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Mainly crack. Sorta. I don't really know since I wrote this in about thirty minutes.**

**Maybe I'll continue with this…**

**Disclaimer: don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

><p>It was the middle of the night when America's phone rang. The Avengers Theme blasted throughout his room, startling him awake. Groaning, he dug his head further into the pillow, hoping to block out the noise. No luck. The tune kept going on and on and on. "I'm gonna kill whoever's calling me," he mumbled, rolling out of bed.<p>

Eyesight blurry, he had to fumble around in the dark for a moment or two before he found the source of the music. America blinked a few times, mind not comprehending (or for the matter _seeing, _since he didn't have Texas on) the words on the screen. But he pressed answer anyway, because it might be his boss alerting him of a Code Red. "Hello…?" He grumbled, voice rough from sleep.

"Amerika?" A voice slurred.

"Fuck. Russia, if you're calling me again I swear to god I will bomb the shit outta you."

A pause. Then a laugh rang from the other side of the line, sounding oddly like Prussia's.

"What the hell, man? It's two in the morning! Stop calling me this late!" America exclaimed.

"_Ich mach nur Spaß," _Germany's voice said now. It sounded like he was giggling and slurring his words too. Which was totally out of character for him.

"Germany? Bro, are you drunk?!"

"Five glasses of beer does't makeme drunk."

"Pretty sure it does, especially if you're in Bavaria. But look dude, I'm going to go now –"

"Wait! I must tell you something."

America sighed and collapsed back onto his bed. Rubbing his eyes, he obliged, "Shoot."

"I love you."

_Yep, _America thought. _Totally drunk off his ass._ "'Kay dude. Got it."

"Nein! I really, really love you."

"And you're also really, really drunk."

Germany hummed. "_Ich liebe dich."_

"Yes I know. Night, Germany. Make sure to drink water in the morning." Before anything stranger transpired, America ended the call. _He won't remember anything, _he thought as he closed his eyes. _He'll forget about it._

* * *

><p>The next World Meeting proved America wrong, however. Germany wouldn't look in America's direction or talk to him, which was odd. He seemed defeated and embarrassed too. And that's when America realized that perhaps Germany hadn't been intoxicated enough to forget.<p>

Face glowing red, America looked down at his papers and covered his mouth. _Oh. Shit._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Translations:<strong>_

_Ich mach nur Spaß – _I'm just kidding **(German)**

_Ich liebe dich – _I love you [romantically] **(German)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Whoa a lot of people liked this. Guess I should continue, eh?**

**It's gonna be a continuation of the previous chapter because yo there isn't enough Germerica out there. But don't worry, there's still going to be hilarious drunk things going on. It's also going to be a mini-fic (no more than 5 chapters).**

**(I actually looked up French, Spanish, and German dating traditions. Ha)**

**Disclaimer: don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

><p>A week had passed since America had last seen Germany, and yet still he couldn't process it. His mind was reeling, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Did he even like Germany back? Hell if he knew. They had a great friendship, were close pals, and respected each other. However now they barely spoke a word and were encased in an awkward silence.<p>

The superpower laughed to himself, looking out his kitchen window. God why was he being such a hot mess over this? Germany had obviously been intoxicated, so obviously it didn't mean much. His declaration of love probably was the result of the alcohol.

_But was it the declaration bit? Or was it the love bit? _America wondered, munching on some Oreos. Hell if he knew. He didn't know what was up or what was down anymore. One of his best friends (might have!) just confessed something important while drunk. Drunk not sober, so America didn't know if it was gibberish or not.

_Just call him and ask, _a thought whispered.

America rolled his eyes at it. Everyone he talked to about it said the same thing. Canada, England, Tony, Japan, France…they all told him to call the German (the latter winking suggestively while saying so). Only the American didn't want to call. He was too embarrassed to. Because what if Germany really did love him? What then? And plus he was probably overreacting and reading too much into this dilemma.

Blue eyes flicked to his cellphone, which was charging on the counter a few inches away. He could do it. Easily.

But he instead he walked away. Not today.

* * *

><p>Germany was a mess. Well, on the inside at least. If anyone looked at him they would see a man going about his day in his usual stoic fashion. And that was fine with him. It would mean that no one would know of his beautifully horrible, drunken, shouldn't-have-ever-happened-but-it-did phone call to America. The only souls on earth who knew were Prussia and Italy; and they offered next to none helpful advice on the matter.<p>

…Which meant that Germany had to deal with this on his own.

Perfect.

_If only I could turn back time, _the German mused, walking up the driveway to his home.

Before he even reached the front door, it flung open. Prussia quickly dragged him inside and steered him to the living room. Wherein he pushed Germany onto the couch and said, "You and the Awesome Me are going to have a talk."

"_Was_?"

"Okay so maybe not you and _I _but you know..." And before Germany could even comprehend what was happening, the albino shouted, "OI FRANCEYPANTS AND SPAIN! GET YOUR FAT ASSES OUT OF MY KITCHEN. WEST IS HOME! Kesesese~"

And in sauntered the said two countries. France was holding a glass of wine in his hand, and Spain was eating what looked like an avocado filled with chopped tomato. Both had an air around them that let Germany immediately know that they were all filled in on what had happened.

"Bonjour, Germany. How was work?" France asked good-naturedly, sitting down right across from him. Spain sat next to his companion, munching happily on his food.

"If you spill any of that on the floor, I will never forgive you," Germany replied tightly.

Prussia laughed and slung an arm around his younger brother. "C'mon, West. They're not slobs like a _certain _someone."

Irritation welled within the short-haired blond. But he said nothing. "What do you three want?" He grit out instead.

"To talk, amigo." Spain shrugged before continuing, "We know a few tricks to help you get Ameri –"

"Shut up shut up shut up!" France exclaimed, slapping the Spaniard upside the head. "_He doesn't know that we know."_

Fear struck through the German. "You know?!"

The self-proclaimed country of love gave his brunette haired friend a withering glare. Spain just smiled weakly. "Oui." He said the same time Spain said, "Sí."

Germany rounded on his brother. "Did you tell them?!"

Prussia put his hands in the air. "Nein! France already knew and Italy had told Romano who had bitched to Spain about it. Then they came to me and now here we are!"

And cue inward panicking. What if everyone knew now? Oh god. If everyone knew…

"Anyway, they wanted to help you out. _Gott_ knows you need it," Prussia was saying now. "So first thing's first: Do you actually love America or were you just wasted out of your mind?"

All pairs of eyes were on him. Unblinking, expectant, curious. Gut twisting and cheeks burning, Germany nodded curtly, turning his head away. His eyes wouldn't meet anyone else's. It was simply too humiliating.

"Honhonhon~ I knew it!" France yelled, his voice giddy beyond belief. "Hand over the twenty euros, Spain!"

"_Hijo de puta," _Spain muttered as he handed over the money.

"You were doing this all for bets?" Germany growled, voice sharp and eyes steel. He glared at them full-on, humiliation gone now.

The two trembled slightly, scared. "N-non. We really do want to help you…"

"Mhm!" Spain agreed. "I suggest taking him on a coffee date. Or strolling through the plaza or –"

"Kiss him on the lips! Then he'll know you mean it~" France interrupted, winking.

Prussia shook his head. "Ach don't listen to them. Go to a bar or something with your friends and America."

"The date should last til sunup –"

"Be sure to be punctual –"

"Don't worry about having sex. After the first kiss anything goes –"

"Pay the goddamn bill –"

"Play hard to get –"

"It won't make you look easy –"

"Buy him an awesome bouquet –"

"Or chocolate –"

"Just go for it –"

"And for everything good and holy _treat him well!"_

Germany stared at the three of them, his brain struggling to absorb the information. He blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Meanwhile, the Bad Friends Trio was looking at him with smug expressions. France sipped his drink, a coy smile playing on his lips. Spain leaned forward, his green eyes sparkling. And Prussia ruffled Germany's hair affectionately.

Coughing, said German said, "Well that was…informative…"

"Kesesese~ Good. Do you have any questions?" The albino asked.

"Nein. I think I just need to go and take this all in…"

"You'll be fine," Spain reassured, standing up and stretching. Eating the last of his snack, he winked and said, "At least you are not _enamorado_ with _Inglaterra_."

"Although England _is_ good in bed," France mused blissfully. "Better than expected, really."

Now it was the brunette's turn to slap his friend upside the head. "Don't even think about it, amigo."

The Prussian smirked and shoved his younger brother. "See? You could have it more unawesome than Spain over here."

"Aye yai yai, England took me a while. But even _he_ couldn't resist my Spanish charms~"

"Keep telling yourself that, 'tonio. Anyway, if you got any more questions just ask us."

Germany sighed as he stood up. He nodded warily, making a mental note to _not _ask them about relationships anymore. Already he was starting to get a headache. Cheeks dusted a light pink, he made his way out of the room, muttering a thanks here and there. Only when he was safe inside his room did he collapse against the door and wonder what kind of mess he had gotten himself into. And how many nations knew about it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Translations:<strong>_

_Enamorado – _in love **(Spanish)**

_Inglaterra – _England **(Spanish)**

_Hijo de puta – _Son of a bitch **(Spanish)**

_Gott – _God **(German)**

_Was – _What **(German)**


End file.
